Stabbed
by keep-turning-the-pages
Summary: For the lovely author Olympiaaa. When Scott finds Mitch stabbed in an alleyway, it's probably the worst day of his life. But will good things come out of this horrific event? Scomiche. Pentatonix.


Scott sat on the couch, watching _Sherlock _absentmindedly and anxiously checking his watch every five minutes or so. He twisted around in his place on the sofa and checked the bouquet of roses he had gotten Mitch, making sure they weren't wilted yet.

It was just Scott's luck that on the night he had planned to ask Mitch out on a date, Mitch was late from whatever he was doing out with Kirstie. Scott had been invited, but he had told them he wasn't feeling very well and would rather not go, while in reality he just needed time to prepare everything.

He nervously checked his watch again, noting that Mitch was now an hour and half late. Scott was starting to worry, and had taken to pacing back and forth throughout the apartment, Wyatt nipping at his heels and meowing.

Scott sighed and lifted the sphinx up, carrying him to the kitchen where he began to dish out his food. His heart was beginning to race as a few inklings of panic welled up inside his chest. Mitch had never been this late without calling before. He whipped out his phone and dialed Kirstie's number.

"_Hello?" _Kirstie mumbled drowsily.

"Kirstie, its Scott." Scott said, feeling a little impatient when she didn't say anything immediately in response.

"_Why are you calling so late?" _Kirstie sounded more awake than before, although she was definitely irritated. _"It's midnight, Scott!"_

"I know, that's why I'm calling," Scott paused, calming himself. "Mitch isn't home yet."

All the irritation had left Kirstie's tone when she spoke next. _"What? He's not? The last I saw him was when he got off the bus!" _She sounded panicked, which only increased Scott's own worry. "You need to go tell Kevin and Avi to wake up and help look for him. I'm going out there right now," Scott said with determination, already pulling on his jacket.

Scott was pleasantly surprised when Kirstie didn't protest against him. _"Alright. I'm calling them right now. Goodbye." _Scott heard the click that signified that Kirstie had hung up, and he slipped his phone into his jacket pocket.

He wasted no time at getting outside, and he was hit with an icy wind that bit through his jacket and shirt, making him shiver. The temperature didn't help him gain confidence at all, and instead images of Mitch, lying dead and cold in some alleyway, burst uninvited into Scott's head.

He set down the street, calling Mitch's name and shining the flashlight into the alleyways he passed. His search was still fruitless by the time the other three appeared, wide awake. Scott knew that the nearest bus-stop to their apartment was up on Douglas Street, so they headed towards the road, Scott way ahead of the others.

Somewhere near the bus stop Scott shined the beam of his flashlight down an alleyway, and he was so glad that he did. Mitch was lying, crumpled in a lifeless heap, at the end of the alleyway, blood in a pool around him.

"_Mitch!_" Scott screamed desperately, racing towards the smaller man and gathering him into his arms. Mitch's eyelids flickered open, and he squinted up at Scott, his brown irises glazed with pain. "Scott?" he murmured. Scott placed his hand reassuringly on Mitch's cheek and said softly, "I'm here; don't worry."

He then raised his head and shouted for the others. "I've found him! He's hurt! Someone call 911!"

He turned his attention back to Mitch, whose eyes were again closed. "It… hurts…." He whimpered, and Scott subconsciously hugged Mitch tighter against him, muttering, "I will never let you go, I'll make it stop hurting, help is on the way…."

He stared at the gaping stab wound in Mitch's side, a sob escaping his throat. Another didn't hesitate to force its way out, and soon enough, Scott was crying freely. He gasped and clung on to Mitch's bloodied shirt. He couldn't believe this was happening. He loved Mitch, he _loved Mitch, _and he wasn't going to let him die.

"Just hold on, Mitch, hold on, please… for me," Scott whispered, tears still trailing down his face. Mitch was obviously unconscious, but he still mumbled into his ear. "I love you, you can't just die on me like that, _I love you, _and I need you to live long enough for me to tell you that." He could hear the faint sound of sirens wailing in the distance, along with the sound of feet slapping against the wet pavement.

"What happened?" Kirstie was suddenly next to him, tears also streaming over her cheeks. Her mascara was leaving black paths along her face, but she didn't seem to care; all her attention was focused on Mitch.

"S-someone—" Scott choked on another sob, forcing it down. "Someone attacked him, they hurt him…." He let out the sob, fury immediately filling him to his core. He was going to _murder _whoever had done this to Mitch. But all he could do for now was hold Mitch tightly against him and wait impatiently for the ambulance to arrive.

Minutes later, Kevin and Avi appeared with three men dressed in white carrying a stretcher. Scott watched in a daze as he was ushered back from Mitch while the men checked his pulse and lifted him onto the stretcher. The rest was a blur. Scott remembered voices screaming at each other, and flashing lights, but the rest was just a hazy mess.

Eventually, the four Pentatonix members were all in the hospital's sitting room, impatiently waiting for news on their fifth member. Scott was crying again, although silently, and Kirstie had him wrapped in her arms, tears also streaming down her face. Kevin just stared at the ground, in a sort of shock, while Avi paced around the room, furiously wiping at his eyes. Everyone's eyes were rimmed with red from crying, and they were all slumped tiredly. But, as soon as the nurse appeared at the end of the room, they were all instantly gathered around him, eyes pleading for good news and filled with renewed energy.

"Is he going to be alright?" Avi asked from the back of the group, his voice cracking at the last word. The nurse looked at them all, pity in his expression.

"He is alive, but he is currently going through surgery. You will all be able to see him after the operation." He informed them professionally, then proceeding to walk out of the room briskly.

Scott sat down shakily onto the nearest chair, pressing his hand to his forehead. They sat there in silence, and Scott didn't know how much time had passed when another nurse, a woman in green scrubs, appeared at the doorway.

"Grassi family?" she called, even though no one else was in the room. Scott jumped up from his seat and quickly walked towards her, along with the rest of the group. They were eager to see their friend. The nurse smiled at them. "You may go and see him now; I will lead you to his room."

She led them not far down the hallway, stopping at room 15. Scott resisted the urge to barge into the room, waiting instead when the nurse began to speak once more. "He is still unconscious, so it won't be much fun for you kids—"

"You think this is fun for us?" Scott snapped suddenly, fuming. The nurse looked startled at his outburst. "No, sir, I was only saying—"

"You think this is fun for us, watching our friend nearly die and waiting, pulling out our hair, for news on his condition?" Scott had raised his voice, and the shouts echoed down the hall. He knew he was just taking his stress out on the nurse, but it felt good. "Well, guess what? This is _not _fun!" he was shouting now.

"Sir, you need to calm down." The nurse stated calmly. Scott opened his mouth to yell at her, but stopped when Kirstie laid a hand on his arm.

"Stop, please Scott, I just want to see Mitch," she said quietly, tears filling her brown eyes once again. Scott touched his own cheek, and wasn't surprised to feel wet tracks there. He had been crying as he shouted.

The nurse eyed them all warily before opening the door quietly, revealing a small white room. They all piled inside, and the nurse left without a word, shutting the door behind her.

When Scott saw Mitch, laying on the hospital bed and looking so small and weak, he nearly sobbed once again. He dragged a chair over to Mitch's bedside and held his limp hand. "Mitch…." He whispered, brushing Mitch's dark hair out of his eyes. The rest of group paid the affection no mind, for they had known of Scott's gigantic crush on Mitch for quite a long time, even though the blonde hadn't ever informed them of it.

They all pulled chairs up to the hospital bed, staying there until the early morning, none of them able to sleep after what had happened. Soon, though, after the clock hit seven A.M., Kevin got up out of his chair and announced that he was going to go get some coffee. "I'll go with you," Avi offered, also rising out of his chair and stretching. Kirstie stood and grabbed her jacket. "I'm going too."

As soon as Avi and Kevin were out the door, Kirstie paused in the doorway and turned to look at Scott. "Scott, do you want anything?" she asked softly. Scott smiled, appreciating the fact that Kirstie didn't even ask if he wanted to go also, knowing that his answer would be 'no'.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Can you get me a caramel mocha?" Kirstie gave him a small, reassuring smile and went out the door, closing it softly. Scott remained sitting there for around five minutes, admiring Mitch's face and resisting the tears that threatened to flow. Then, the counter-tenor's eyes fluttered open.

Scott's heart leapt when Mitch raised his head slightly, confused. "Mitch?" Scott said tentatively. Mitch turned his head towards Scott, and smiled. "Scott."

Scott couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He stood up, leaning over the bed, and hugged Mitch tightly. He only let go when Mitch made a small noise of pain, and he sat back, watching as Mitch lifted his shirt up to see the white bandage wrapped around his middle.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Scott said, suddenly very close to tears. Mitch raised his head and held Scott's blue eyes with his own brown ones. "I am too, trust me." His voice was quiet and soft. Scott felt the first tear trickle down his cheek, and then he was soon a blubbering, sobbing mess. "I-I thought you were going to die, Mitch!"

"I'm okay Scott, I'm alright." Mitch had tears streaming down his face also, although he was retaining his composure better than Scott was. "Don't you _ever _do that to me again!" Scott sobbed. "I thought I would never – never be able to tell you that I—" Scott stopped himself, fearing for the worst. What if Mitch didn't love him back?

"Tell me what, Scott?" Mitch sniffled, wiping at his eyes. Scott looked down at the ground, tears coming to a stop and panic filling him instead. "I love you," he said to the floor, quietly.

Mitch's eyes grew wide. "What?" he asked breathlessly. Scott raised his head to meet Mitch's eye. "I love you, Mitch." Scott watched worriedly as Mitch stared at him blankly. A grin slowly spread across the counter-tenor's face. "I love you too, Scott."

Then, suddenly, Mitch slammed his lips against Scott's, and Scott melted into the kiss, happiness taking over his senses. He threaded his hands through Mitch's dark hair, and Mitch's hands gently cupped his face, caressing his thumbs along Scott's cheeks.

The only thing in Scott's mind was _Mitch, _of how his lips were soft and gentle, and of how he tasted like honey and smelled like vanilla. He breathed through his nose deeply, inhaling the scent. He ran his tongue across Mitch's lower lip, asking for entrance, and Mitch granted his wish, opening his mouth slightly. Soon, Scott could taste the other man's tongue, and shivers of pleasure ran up and down his spine, intensifying the electricity he already felt running through his body. But, unfortunately, they had to break off the kiss, both gasping for air with blissful grins on their faces. Mitch pressed his forehead against Scott's, their breath mingling with each other's. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that," he whispered.

"I think I might have an idea," Scott said seductively. He was just about to pull Mitch in for another kiss when he heard a voice say, "_Ahem._"

They both froze, and Scott turned around to find Kirstie, Avi, and Kevin all clutching Starbucks and smug grins on their faces. Avi leaned over and whispered something into Kevin's ear, and the beat boxer begrudgingly dug around in his pocket before retrieving what looked like ten dollars, passing the money to Avi. Suddenly, the fact that they had caught them kissing didn't seem so important.

"You _bet _on us!" Mitch yelped, glaring daggers at them.

Kirstie laughed. "I didn't, but they did. Avi bet that you were going to get together before the end of January, and Kevin bet after March. They did it on New Years Eve, when we all went out to get the wine coolers. You and Mitch stayed behind. I'm supposed to be the one that keeps track of the bet, since I didn't want to risk my money on you guys. It was hard to tell when one of you worked up enough guts to kiss one another." Scott gaped at them, disbelieving. "How did you even know?" he asked, astounded.

Kevin rolled his eyes. "Well, you guys weren't exactly subtle. The only people who didn't take the hint were you guys. You're oblivious to each other!" Scott spluttered indignantly, but before he had the chance to say anything, Avi added, "And the Christmas party basically confirmed everything that we suspected."

Scott and Mitch just stared at them disbelievingly. _'How_ _did they figure it out?'_ Scott wondered. _'I thought I was acting normal pretty well around Mitch!'_

A few days later, Mitch was released from the hospital with firm instructions not to strain himself too much, or else he would tear his stitches. So, naturally, Scott babied him, forcing him to stay on the couch and making him soup. Mitch complained about the treatment, but they both knew that he secretly enjoyed it.

Around a week out of the hospital, Mitch was lying on the couch, _Sherlock _playing on the TV. Scott sat next to him, munching on popcorn, Mitch occasionally stealing a piece from the bowl. "Scott,"he whined playfully, throwing a piece of popcorn at his head. "This is the _third _episode of Sherlock, and each one is literally and hour and a half long!"

Scott gave him a pleading look. "But they're good! And besides, this is the one where Moriarty comes in!"

"Who?" Mitch asked absentmindedly, flicking another kernel of buttery popcorn at his boyfriend. Scott sighed and tore his attention from the TV, twisting himself until he was facing Mitch fully. "Never mind. What do you want to do, if you don't want to watch Sherlock, the best TV show on the planet?" he flopped himself down against the back of the couch dramatically.

Mitch opened his mouth, an idea already forming on his lips, but Scott cut him off by pointing at him, not even looking at his boyfriend and staring at the TV. "Not anything that would require too much physical activity, Mitch."

Mitch sighed, irritated. "I was just going to suggest going to that new café down the street, Scott. I don't think that requires very much _physical activity,_" he snapped. Scott sat up at grinned at the smaller man, scooting himself closer. "Aw, I was just kidding, you know," he said, pecking Mitch lightly on his nose. Mitch smirked and said, "Aim a little bit lower next time, and maybe you'll be forgiven."

Scott smiled and claimed Mitch's lips with his. He sighed into the kiss with pleasure when Mitch tangled his hands into the longer locks of hair on the top of Scott's head, and Scott, too, buried his hands into Mitch's dark hair, messing up its carefully styled form. Mitch opened his mouth, inviting Scott in.

They kissed gently and slowly, enjoying each other. Scott could see himself here, with Mitch, in twenty years, kissing just like this. He could see himself spending the rest of his life with Mitch, and he wanted to _so badly_. Warmth expanded in his chest at the thought, and he broke away just slightly so that he could mumble, "I love you," to Mitch, meaning _every single word, _and hearing Mitch tell him, "I love you too," with just as much passion was the best thing in his life, and the only thing that mattered.

Scott once again pressed his lips to Mitch's, enjoying the warmth his boyfriend emitted. Suddenly, a voice shouted loudly, "_John!" _Making Mitch jump and bump his nose against Scott's. Scott glared daggers at the TV, pausing the show. Mitch giggled, and Scott rubbed his nose against Mitch's and brought him closer. Mitch rested his head against Scott's chest, and they sat there, content.

"So," Scott said, wrapping his arms around Mitch and squeezing him comfortingly. "Weren't we going to go to that café?" Mitch turned his head into Scott, breathing in his clean scent. "I actually think that Sherlock is a _great_ show," he mumbled into Scott's shirt lazily, showing no signs of getting up. Scott smiled lovingly at his boyfriend and relaxed against the couch. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

They ended up watching seven and a half more hours of the show before Mitch fell asleep on top of Scott, and Scott, not wanting to disturb Mitch, fell asleep with his head resting on the back of the couch. He didn't care if he woke up with a horrible ache in his neck, he had Mitch, and that was all that mattered in the world.


End file.
